I'll Take Care of You and You Take Over the World
by torpidtorque
Summary: Slightly altered timeline. Clint is forced to take care of Loki when it becomes obvious he sucks at doing so himself. Luckily for him, Clint's not afraid to play dirty to get what he wants. Eventual Loki/Clint slash. Rated T for now. Inspired by a kink meme prompt. Work in progress.


Idea shamelessly stolen from the kink meme. I swore I'd stop writing this pairing, but seeing the gag reel and deleted scenes appears to have re-kindled my obsession. Someone help me.

Fiddled with the timeline a bit to give them more time together, but will follow canon otherwise. Also, sorry for the sucky title. If you have any other suggestions, I will gratefully take them.

Title in the chapter because apparently my titles are too long for this site. _Fine_, then.

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Even Future Kings of the Earth Need to Eat**

Normally, Clint would not be one to involve himself with things beyond his control. He was the one that watched from afar, ready to jump into the fray at any moment, but also ready to retreat if the threat was too great. He knew what his limits were, and took care not to cross them unless absolutely necessary.

Normally, he would not be one to interrupt an argument, especially when the parties involved clearly had more knowledge than he did about the subject. It would do more harm than good, and he preferred to remain hidden in the background. It was easier to surprise people that way.

_Normally_, he would not be standing in underground chambers with mysterious energy sources ready to explode at any second.

"Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow," he said, walking towards Loki, trying to inject some urgency into his voice.

Selvig agreed. "The portal is collapsing in on itself. We've got about two minutes before this goes critical."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Well, then," he said, looking at Clint.

He understood instantly. Shooting at Fury — and missing — he grabbed the suitcase containing the Terrasect as they left, handing it to Selvig when they reached the cars. Brushing past Agent Hill, he hoped they'd be able to leave before Fury could act.

It was not to be. He turned and took a shot at her when he heard Fury's voice on the radio, but couldn't waste any more time than that. He gunned the throttle, praying Fury would be unable to leave the basement, leaving him to die as the portal imploded.

He gritted his teeth when he heard shots against the car. He swerved, hoping Loki wouldn't mind.

"Selvig," he said, his voice strained. "Why are you _in here_ while Loki is _out there_?"

An explosion behind him, and the shots stopped.

"Well," Selvig replied, breathing quickly. "He needs me. Plus, I wouldn't have been able to stop that car like that, now would I?"

Clint grunted as another car came barrelling ahead of them. What Selvig said was true, but he'd rather have Loki safe inside with him and deal with a disappointed Loki than a dead one. Or an injured one.

More shots as Hill fired at him. Angrily, he shot back while trying to steering around her. "_Fuck_, Hill, I don't have _time_ for you!"

_Finally,_ he managed to do so. He floored the accelerator, knowing he had to be quick unless they were to be swallowed up by the portal's energy. Clint thought they were safe when they exited the tunnel, until he saw the helicopter flying above them. _Fury._

The shots that came were not entirely unexpected, but he _still_ would have preferred having Loki in the car with him, until a blast from the back sent the helicopter spiralling. He heard a few more shots from Fury but knew they were finally in the clear; he pulled away quickly, not willing to subject Loki to any other attacks.

"See?" Selvig huffed shakily. "I wouldn't have been able to … do that," he concluded before giggling hesitantly.

Clint rolled his eyes. _Scientists._ Crazy, the lot of them. "Any idea where we should go?" he asked, trying to get Selvig to focus. "I have a couple of places Fury doesn't know about, but I'm not too sure how well you're going to work in them."

That certainly stopped him. "I do have research labs around, but Fury knows about most of them," Selvig admitted. "The only one he doesn't know about has been abandoned for quite some time now. It'll take a day or two to get it back into working condition."

Clint sighed. He had a feeling Loki wouldn't be thrilled by the delay, but he'd take security over speed any day.

"All right. Lead the way."

– - – - –

By the time they arrived, it was already late evening. Clint looked doubtfully at the old house as they entered: vines crawled up the sides, paint peeled from the walls, and he was sure he heard a draft somewhere.

"What _is_ this place?" Loki asked condescendingly. "It's horrid. Are such low standards typical for mortals?" He looked disdainfully at the dripping hole in the ceiling, carefully stepping around the puddle on the floor.

Selvig gave Clint a loaded look before hurrying off, taking the Terrasect with him. That left Clint alone with Loki.

"Well," he started, trying to explain. "Fury and them don't know about this place, so it should be relatively safe. And, er, Selvig knows his way around, which should speed up the process of … whatever he needs to do for you."

Loki sniffed. "Very well, I shall remain here until the next phase of my plan can be carried out. Go and see if the scientist needs any help."

Clint opened his mouth to protest but Loki had already vanished. He stared at empty space that had been occupied moments prior, cursing Loki's spontaneity.

It was going to be the death of him.

– - – - –

The rest of the house wasn't in any better shape than the room he'd seen already. Minimally furnished, it stank of something he couldn't put his finger on. There were holes in walls and in rugs, and more than once he saw a gathering of flies in the corner of a room. He found Selvig in a small lab, which was, thankfully, in much better condition. There was a thick layer of dust covering the various instruments and surfaces, but at least there wasn't anything moulding or rotting in there. Perhaps it was the thick glass walls and door that had prevented anything from getting in.

Asked if he needed any help, Selvig shook his head. "Maybe go around to the kitchen and see if you can make anything for dinner. I'm starving," he said thoughtfully.

Great. Clint was getting kitchen duty. Following Selvig's vague directions — "around the corner to your left" — he went down various hallways and discovered other old rooms until finally stumbling on what barely passed as a kitchen. He recoiled in horror when he opened the fridge and hastily threw away everything that was in there. The years hadn't been kind to the cheese and meat he found. He opened the cupboards, grimacing, and was relieved to find several cans of microwavable soup. With any luck, not all of them would have expired.

Taking out three cans and throwing away about ten, he was rummaged through the drawers for a can opener and pulled out a rusty one. Looking at it suspiciously, he was nevertheless glad it worked. Within a couple of minutes the soup was bubbling happily, and Clint's stomach let out a growl. He hadn't noticed how hungry he was, but he supposed that escaping from near-death and a top-secret government operation had that effect on people.

Clint had just finished pouring the soup into bowls when he heard the door open and a surprising amount of footsteps. Stepping out into the corridor, he nearly dropped the spoons he was holding when he saw the group that Loki had brought in with him. Notable physicists and top foreign ones the government had taken note of made up the majority of them; the rest were high-profile mercenaries and assassins, ones that even _he_ had to be careful of. How Loki had gotten hold of them, he didn't want to know.

Loki directed the group of scientists to Selvig, whose face lit up as he started explaining _something_ to them giddily, gesturing with his hands with enthusiasm. The others he sent outside before turning around and spotting Clint. He smirked, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

Clint approached them and eyed the group of scientists warily as they entered the lab. "Dinner's ready," he announced, taking note of Selvig's conflicted expression. "Chicken noodle soup for everyone."

Selvig brightened again and followed him into the kitchen. "I _love_ chicken noodle," he explained to Loki, who was poking at the broth with his spoon. "By the way, how on _earth_ did you get Zaanen and Thorne to come? I've been trying to contact them for _ages_ but they always said they were busy — working on more theories, ha! Bet they're regretting it now that they're here working for _me_! It's all thanks to you, boss!"

Loki smiled minutely at him, watching him spill soup onto the table as he spoke. "This … chicken noodle. What is it?"

Clint stared, while Selvig looked shocked. "What do you mean, _what is it_? It's … chicken noodle! _Only_ possibly the most delicious thing to exist since the discovery of black holes! Maybe even as famous as the Higgs boson!"

Now even Clint was confused. "I don't think that helped," he muttered, watching as Loki stared at the soup. Hesitantly, he raised the spoon to his mouth and took a small sip.

His reaction was instantaneous. He made a face of disgust and dropped his spoon. "This is disgusting," he said scornfully. "This slop should not be fit for even the lowest of slaves. It seems I have much to fix when I rule this world. Why he is so enamoured with you pathetic fools I have no _idea_." He glared at Clint as if the taste was _his_ fault.

"You should still finish it," Clint replied flatly. "Even future kings of the Earth need to eat. I don't know if you had anything before but I'm sure that travelling here would have taken a lot of energy, not to mention doing whatever you did to find all those people and making them obey you. Unless you're telling me it didn't take any effort at all?"

A sharp pain and a loud smacking sound covered up Clint's surprised gasp; his cheek stung smartly and he didn't figure it out until he saw Loki standing above him with his arm raised, sneering viciously.

"You will learn your place, mortal!" he spat as Clint touched his aching face gently with his fingers. "You have no _right_ to question me. I am burdened with _glorious purpose_ and will not rest until I have accomplished what I have come to do. Your pathetic _human_ assumptions do not apply to me. Do not face me again until you have learned _proper respect_!" Loki hissed, voice dangerously laced with poison, eyes narrowed, before turning and stalking from the room.

A silence descended as Selvig blinked at him. "Think you crossed the line a bit there," he said unhelpfully. "Do you want that?" he asked, pointing at Loki's barely-touched bowl of soup.

Clint scowled and shook his head, watching as Selvig shrugged and said, "Your loss," before pulling the bowl closer to him and slurping at it greedily. Clint waited for a moment longer before picking up his empty bowl and putting it in the sink, not bothering to clean it properly. He'd probably regret it in the morning but he was too angry to really care. Angry at Loki for not eating, angry at his cheek for still hurting, and angry at himself for making _Loki_ angry. Angry, angry, angry.

"Oh, by the way," Selvig interrupted just as he was about to leave. "I've got some of the scientists helping me but some of them are in completely the wrong field. One guy's an expert on fluid dynamics, working on reducing resistance for swimmers or something, _honestly_! Who _cares_ about that?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Anyway, I've got those guys cleaning out the rest of the house, making it more liveable, you know. Well, I figured you'd be more used to doing heavy lifting and stuff, being an agent and all, so think you could help them out when you have a chance? _Loki_ asked me to," he finished smugly.

Clint took a deep breath, willing himself to remain civil. "Fine. Tomorrow though, all right? I'm tired tonight. Massive headache. _You_ know," he said gruffly, turning and getting the hell out before Selvig could reply. He massaged his head as he scouted the house for a suitable place to sleep. He climbed the stairs and assumed Loki would take the only bedroom; he settled for a couch instead, dragging a dresser to cover gaping hole and ripping down the least grungy-looking curtain to use as a blanket.

He rubbed his eyes as he arranged himself on the couch, which was, unsurprisingly, lumpy and leaning awkwardly to one side. The anger that had filled him earlier had been infected with a streak of guilt. He sighed and turned over, promising himself that he'd apologize to Loki first thing in the morning.

For now, though, he needed sleep. He was too tired and his reflexes had slowed; the scene in the kitchen proved that. Not being able to sense an attack coming wouldn't do any good for any of them. He closed his eyes and tried his best to ignore the excited cries of the scientists below him.

Within minutes, he was fast asleep, and his dreams were filled with a curious shade of blue.

* * *

Writing Loki is much too fun. Any comments or criticisms greatly appreciated.


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